


How 'Bout a Dance

by Loneliness_of_Evening



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loneliness_of_Evening/pseuds/Loneliness_of_Evening
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the 1940's Steve and Bucky would pack themselves a picnic basket at 11 pm and leave the city in hopes of finding a quiet spot to eat, drink, and sleep the night away.  It's 2016 and Bucky's back.  Everything is confusing, but Steve is determined to bring one normal thing to Bucky's new life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How 'Bout a Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, this is my first ever post on AO3 and I'm v excited. Just a short Stucky oneshot, inspired by the song "How 'Bout a Dance" from the Bonnie & Clyde Original Broadway Cast Recording. Enjoy!

A late night picnic is one of Steve’s favorite things. It’s not too hot, no one’s out, and the candles they bring are romantic. He hasn’t been on one in so long, though. Not for over 70 years, but now that Bucky’s back... It was always their thing, and Steve is doing everything he can to remind Bucky of the old days. The good days. The days before the war, before the serum, before everything got so complicated.

  
After gathering everything picnic related, Steve sticks his head through the door to his and Bucky’s room in the Avengers Tower.

  
“Bucky?” he says. “You ready to go?”

  
Bucky shoves something in his pocket and turns to smile at Steve. “Ready.” He crosses the room and takes Steve’s outstretched hand.

 

They return to the kitchen to grab the basket and find Natasha looking through it.

 

“Isn’t it a little late for a picnic?” she asks.

 

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s the best time.”

 

“Maybe we’ll take you along,” Steve offers and when Bucky squeezes his hand in protest, he finishes, “The next time we go.”

 

“Yeah, sure. Don’t have too much fun, now.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes and takes the basket from her hand. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

 

Nat nods and retreats to the bar across in the other room.

 

“Alright, let’s go,” Steve says, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s shoulders, and Bucky takes the picnic basket with his brand spanking new metal arm. After Tony had taken a month or so to calm down and to win Pepper back, he came back to the Avengers tower with the new arm and gave it to Bucky with a short, “Sorry I broke your old arm.”

 

They hop into one of Stark’s convertibles and brings the top down to feel the night air on their faces. Back in the 40’s, they would’ve driven Bucky’s father’s truck, the bed piled high with blankets and pillows. But today, they are headed to the currently abandoned compound. It takes them a while to drive out of the city. Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to New York traffic in this day and age. There’s too much honking, which freaks Bucky out. Eventually though they end up outside the city, and head upstate. The compound is empty for the weekend. Most avengers are at the tower, on assignment, or off doing their own thing, so the place is all Steve and Bucky’s. The grounds are massive and Steve pulls Bucky out of the car and towards the surrounding woods. They traverse through the trees, until they come across a small clearing that Steve had found a few weeks ago. Before he’d found Bucky.

 

“It’s perfect,” Bucky says, setting the basket down. Steve unfurls the folded blanket and lays it on a soft patch of grass. Before they even unpack the food, Bucky is kissing Steve. Steve welcomes the kiss, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair and holding him close. He doesn’t want to lose his best friend and boyfriend again, and he holds him as though he’ll never let go. Finally, they separate. Their faces are inches apart, breaths tickling each other’s faces.

 

“Um,” Bucky stammers. “We should probably eat.”

 

Steve nods. “That’s a good idea.”

 

They unpack and Bucky laughs when he pulls out two mason jars. “Are you kidding me, Steve?”

 

“What? Homemade moonshine, like old times. Do you not like it?”

 

“No, baby, I love it. It’s perfect.”

 

“You’re perfect.”

 

They kiss again and then dig into the feast Steve had packed them.

 

“Oh my god, these cookies are divine,” Bucky moans when the make it to dessert, already mildly intoxicated.

 

“Clint sent them to the tower,” Steve says. “Now that’s he’s back in retirement and Laura won’t let him renovate the house anymore he had to find a new hobby. Turns out he’s a fucking baking genius!”

 

“Language,” Bucky teases and Steve groans.

 

“Noooo, who told you about that?”

 

“Natasha. We were talking about the war and I mentioned how much of a foul mouth you are. What happened to you while you slept?”

 

“Literally, it just slipped out, I didn’t even think about it. It was fucking stupid as shit, and now I’ll pay for it for the rest of my fucking life.”

 

Bucky snorts and then stands as he remembers something. “Oh, I almost forgot!”

 

Steve sits up, confused, as Bucky holds up a finger and pulls something out of his pocket. It’s a small rectangle and it looks like a phone, but it’s much too thin. But then again, phones are really quite thin today, Steve remembers.

 

“It’s an iPod,” Bucky explains. Nat gave it to me. It plays music, so she said I could catch up over the past few years.

 

Steve nods, understanding, but still not sure what Bucky plans on doing with it. The Winter Soldier tinkers with the device for a moment before a song begins to play, and Steve smiles immediately at the opening notes.

 

“Our song,” he says, as Bucky’s hips begin to sway.

 

“We used to dance to this when we were kids. It was my mom’s favorite record.”

 

“I remember.”

 

Steve breathes in slowly, committing this moment to memory. It is perfect. Bucky is perfect.

 

He holds out his hand to Steve and says, “How ‘bout a dance?”

 

Steve eagerly takes the offered hand and Bucky pulls him upright.

 

“You do know I’m a shit dancer, remember?”

 

Bucky laughs, “Of course I do. But don’t worry. My feet are pretty tough.”

 

The two of them rock back and forth; nothing too complicated. Before long, they are kissing again, only swaying slowly. The song ends and a new one plays.

 

“I know this one,” Steve says, placing small kisses on Bucky’s nose. “It’s by Marvin Gaye, Sam showed it to me.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“He said it was a good love making song.”

 

“Oh. So?”

 

“So rip my fucking shirt off.”


End file.
